It Sucks To Be Who?
by RanMouri82
Summary: In Conan's crew it can be hard to say, much less sing, whose life sucks most. With apologies to Avenue Q!


**Title:** It Sucks To Be Who?  
**Author:** RanMouri82  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** Aoyama Gosho made Conan. Robert Lopez and Jeff Marx made Avenue Q. Any questions?  
**Spoilers:** References to recent plot developments.  
**Warnings:** Characters bursting into parodied song. You've been warned!

_It Sucks To Be Who?_

A thin spotlight shone its ray upon the vertically challenged teen detective, Edogawa Conan. He sat cross-legged on the floor, tinkering around with his skateboard and screwing his forehead in frustration. As the spotlight widened, it cast light upon the scattered filth and blaring TV of the Mouri Detective Agency where, slumped over his chair with his legs crossed upon the desk, "Sleeping Detective" Mouri Kogorou failed to notice mellow music creep in, then swell, as Conan rose to his feet and opened his mouth . . . to sing.

"What do you do as a shrunken detective? When is the end going to be," he sang, magically on pitch, lacing his fingers behind his head and pacing by a pair of sofas worn with seating many clients. "Ten years of story, and plenty of glory, and here I'm still stuck three-foot-three!"

Conan nearly tripped over a corner of his skateboard, then stopped with a frown and kicked it into his hands. "I can't be with Ran yet, 'cause my voice hasn't dropped yet. The syndicate's running the place . . . ." But then, he grasped his skateboard tightly and tucked it under his arm, lifting his chin as a confident smile spread across his lips. "But somehow I feel sure that I'll be the victor, if I keep my own _Holmeslike grace!_"

"Well, better try catching up with the FBI," Conan told himself, slipping on his super-powered shoes and dashing out the front door. The slam woke Kogorou with a start.

At that moment, Ran bounded into the room, newly dressed and cheerful. "Morning, Dad!"

"Oh, morning," Kogorou grumbled. "Brat's run off."

"Well, I guess that's alright. How's your day?" she chirped.

"I haven't had a client in two weeks, your mother annoyed me with a phone call _you_ put her up to," he added, leveling a glare at his daughter, "and Yoko's new drama was preempted with baseball. What do you think?" he groused, fumbling for a beer.

"Someone's grumpy," Ran retorted, crossing her arms.

"You're not me, okay?" he said, taking a swig from the can. "I always thought, well . . . ."

Ran blinked. "What?"

"No," Kogorou muttered, waving her off, "it's stupid."

"C'mon Dad— " But she was cut off when he began to sing.

"When I was little, I thought I would be . . . a famous rock star with idols on TV!" Kogorou announced proudly, leaping onto the desk and pointing to the glossy Yoko poster he had tacked on the wall. Flopping back into his chair, he continued, "But now I'm forty-two and as you can see, I'm not."

"Nope," Ran said, a sweat drop trickling down her cheek.

"Oh, well," he added, throwing the empty beer can into the trash. "_It sucks to be me!_"

Ran gasped. "No!"

"It sucks to be me!" he sang, digging around futilely for both an unopened can and a cigarette while Ran culled the empties into a garbage bag. "It sucks to be broke and out of beer and turning forty-three—it sucks to be me."

"You think _your_ life sucks?" cried Ran indignantly as she stopped clearing away the cans to plant her hands on her hips. "Your problems aren't so bad!" Eyes sparkling, she cupped her cheeks and sang, "I'm kinda pretty, and pretty damn strong—"

"You _are_," Kogorou grunted.

"Thanks! I have a black belt but love dramas and song!" Ran giggled, twirling across the room toward a pink handbag which lay neatly tucked on an end table. Clutching the purse, she fumbled for her cell phone, searched for text messages and sang, "And I've been loyal though I've suffered so long, so where_ . . . the hell is my boyfriend?_"

Hurling the phone into the sofa, she screamed, "_DAMN! _It sucks to be me!"

"M-me too!" Kogorou spluttered.

"It sucks to be me—"

"It sucks to be _me!_" Kogorou spat, snatching a can out of Ran's reach so he could drink the last few drops. "It sucks to be Mouri—"

"And Ran!" she sang, wrenching the can away.

"To not have Yoko—"

"To keep waiting on . . . it sucks to be me!"

Loud bickering suddenly filled the agency from another source. A tall, dark skinned teen burst through the door without bothering to knock, barely pausing to kick off his shoes as a ponytailed girl charged at his heels. Both were practically shrieking in Kansai dialect.

"D'ya have to follow me _again_—"

"You're the one gettin' yourself killed—"

"Oh, hi guys!" Ran cried, slipping between the pair and holding back their shoulders while they shot each other a look of pure venom. "Do you think you can help us out? Whose life sucks more, Dad's or mine?"

They stared at her like she was mental. "Ours!"

"Grew up together," Kazuha sang.

Heiji added, with a sidelong glare, "We're kinda attached at the side."

"We've been both friends and classmates—"

"Couldn't part us if ya tried," Heiji huffed, pulling a picture from Kazuha's backpack of their childhood selves bound by handcuffs.

Kazuha grabbed the photo—and tucked it away safely. "So he knows lotsa ways to make me think that he's died! _Oh_, everyday I just fret an' worry—"

"Follows me when I'm in a hurry!" Heiji interrupted, leaning over Kazuha with fresh menace, though he only made her flush scarlet.

"You're so darn clueless," she returned, crossing her arms, "about romantic affairs."

"Oh yeah?" Heiji spat, a vein throbbing near his temple. "At least I don't stuff_ omamori _in your underwear!"

Kogorou and Ran could barely stifle their laughter.

Kazuha scowled. "Ya make each recurrin' appearance we share a hell!"

"So do you!" he said, thrusting an accusing finger between her eyes. "That's why I know I'm screwed!"

"It sucks to be me!" Kazuha wailed.

"No! It sucks to be me!" Heiji tried to sing even louder.

"Is there _anybody_ here it doesn't suck to be?" everyone sang, throwing up their hands in despair. "It sucks to be me!"

The four of them leapt into a spontaneous dance as they sang merrily, harmonizing and grinning from ear to ear. During this bridge, Haibara Ai crept into the agency and gave the lot of them a blank stare. Sighing, she asked, "Why are you all so happy?"

Having waved his cap in the air during the dance, Heiji shoved it on backwards and chuckled. "Because our lives suck."

"_Your_ lives suck? Am I hearing you correctly?" Ai deadpanned, padding into the midst of them. She cleared her throat, then sang, "Well . . . I'm living in this country a prisoner, you see. Try to blend in with normal children," she added, tugging at her auburn hair, "when you're half-Japanese! Though with hard work I've earned a Master's degree, it's though a _syndicate_, and now I'm a _scientist,_ but I have _no parents_, and I have a _sister murdered by those who want to kill me_, and today might _be—the—last—I'll—see!_"

Everyone gave _her_ a blank stare.

"It sucks to be me," Ai sighed, drooping her tiny shoulders. "It sucks to be me. I say it very, truly, clearly, overwhelmingly, magnificently, undoubtedly, inestimably _SUCKS! _It sucks to be me."

Poking his head though the door while the others scratched theirs in confusion, Conan blinked and asked, "Um, has Dr. Agasa called lately? He was supposed to meet me, but—"

"What kind of trouble are you causing this time?" Ai muttered.

"Oh, that's right," said Kogorou, rubbing the stubble of his unshaven chin. "He called awhile ago saying he was sending that person with an answer. That's probably him," he said, cupping a hand around his mouth to yell at the petite figure which, at that very moment, cast its shadow upon the door. "Hey, kid, come on in!"

"A-alright, I'm coming!" a quavering voice squeaked from the stairwell.

But as soon as this mysterious guest threw open the door and stepped inside, he tripped over Conan's skateboard and landed face-first on the rug, knocking the glasses off his dainty face. "Owww . . . ."

"What the hell?" Conan cried, gaping at the sprawling boy. "It's Hondou Eisuke!"

"Yes, I am," he moaned, rubbing his sore nose. Rising upon wobbly feet, he sang, "I'm Hondou Eisuke, the only effeminate guy. I've lived through cancer, blood loss, and my clumsy attempts to spy. And now I've lost both Dad and Sis through CIA and lies, but I'm here—the newest supporting character—of Conan's crew!"

Everyone winced. "_It sucks to be you!_"

"You win," Ran sighed, patting his shoulder.

Heiji and Kazuha nodded vigorously in agreement. "It sucks to be you."

"I feel better now!" Kogorou added, grinning while he lit a cigarette and blew a smoke ring.

"Try having people stopping you to tell you—_'You look just like Mizunashi Rena!'_" Eisuke chirped, clasping his hands with fake stars in his eyes. Pouting, he whined, "It gets old."

Moving into a wide semicircle, they replied, "It sucks to be you . . . in Conan's crew!"

"Sucks to be me!" the girls sang in harmony, joining hands.

"Sucks to be you!" the guys sang, likewise forming a human chain.

"Sucks to be us, but not when _we're together!_" All at once, every character in Detective Conan strolled through the door and crammed into the Mouri Detective Agency like sardines, down to Inspector Yamamura, the waitress from Café Poirot, Two-Mix, and the entire cast of Magic Kaito. "We're together here in Conan's crew, we live as Conan's crew—our friends do, too!"

All pairs, triangles, and ploygons, like Kogorou and Eri, Satou, Takagi, and Shiratori, Makoto and Sonoko, and—of course—Conan, Ran, Ai, Ayumi, Mitsuhiko, and Genta either linked arms or hugged.

"Till our manga's through, we live as Conan's crew—"

"This is Beika life!" Conan said, twisting his elbow out of Ayumi's death grip.

"We live as Conan's crew—"

Heiji winked and gave a thumbs up. "Our fans still love it!"

"We live as Conan's crew—"

"Here's Shounen Sunday!" Eisuke yelped, holding a copy aloft while cracking several ribs between Agasa and Megure.

Everyone stretched their arms in all directions and flashed twinkling smiles just before drums rolled and the piano trilled to a grand finish. "_WELCOME TO CONAN'S CREW!_"

After a beat, they tried to squirm out of the cramped space, but were stuck.

Conan groaned. "This _sucks_."

* * *

Songfics always entail risk, so I took extra-special care to make this enjoyable whether or not the reader knows the Avenue Q song, "It Sucks To Be Me". Try to look up the original lyrics and give this song a listen, if possible, because it's a riot! 


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